


Saving People

by giantteenwolforgy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giantteenwolforgy/pseuds/giantteenwolforgy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek are basically Sam and Dean (except not brothers). They travel the country in Derek's beloved Camaro, stay in shitty motel rooms, and rid the world of evil one day at a time. Sometimes they have hard core life-affirming sex and then pretend it didn't happen in the morning. </p><p>It's all part of the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving People

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL
> 
> I can't begin to say how excited I am for the story!! For some reason I'm incapable of working on one story at a time, so if you're following Rain or Shine, DON'T FRET. I AM NOT ABANDONING IT JUST BECAUSE I'VE POSTED THIS ONE. 
> 
> This one is kind of different, in the sense that each chapter will be a "case". I'm not planning on having any cliff-hangers, so the chapters will be able to stand alone, but will still be connected with the same story arc. Kind of like a series?? I'm not sure how my schedule will be with updating this fic, so hopefully that makes it easier to read! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! :)
> 
> If you want to help out with this story, I'm taking suggestions for monsters to fight! Drop a line at my tumblr (giantteenwolforgy.tumblr.com) or in a comment here with a creature&how to kill them and I'll work it in!
> 
> ***This chapter is based off an idea from an anon! Thank you!***

* * *

 

“It’s not a mermaid.” 

“ _Derek_ —“

“Mermaids do not exist.”

He grabs a duffel bag out of the Camaro’s trunk and slings it over his shoulder; starts walking towards the coast. Stiles scrambles to keep up.

“Okay, but see, that’s what you said about the vampires, and they definitely existed.” Derek throws a disdainful look over his shoulder that Stiles whole-heartedly ignores. “If it’s not a mermaid, then what the hell is it?”

“Stiles.” He sighs.

“No seriously, enlighten me—“

“It could be a siren.”

“A _siren_?” Stiles repeats incredulously. “Are you insane?”

“Are _you_? Maybe it’s a vengeful spirit.”

“Victims had no connection.”

“That we _know of_.”

“Derek, come on. This has all the classic signs of a—“

“Don’t say it.”

“— _mermaid_." 

Stiles waits for the usual huff of laughter, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Derek has gone quiet and tense next to him, and Stiles stiffens too, trains his flashlight where Derek’s gaze is fixed on the ocean. There’s nothing for a second, and then an unearthly screech pierces the air. 

Derek drops to his knees, pulling Stiles with him as a something erupts from the water with a monstrous splash.

In another time, in a different place, Stiles might’ve said _I told you so_ when he looked up and saw a woman half-submerged, hair flying wild in the wind, scales littered up and down her bare torso. If they were still back in Beacon Hills, and a fucking mermaid had emerged from the sea just in time to prove Derek wrong, Stiles _definitely_ would’ve said it.

But they’ve been doing this job for a long time, and Stiles doesn’t get the same pleasure out of those words as he used to. Instead he rolls to his knees and pulls a knife from his belt.

Derek’s cursing next to him. “How do we kill it?” he yells over the roar of the water, eyes flashing blue.

“Bronze dagger to the throat!” he calls back, brandishing the weapon in his hand.

Derek eyes it for a second before holding his hand out. “I’ll do it.”

“What—no!” Stiles says immediately. “We have to…draw her out of the ocean somehow—“

“Stiles, there’s no time! She killed five people already!” 

“Yeah, five people who _drowned_ in the water that she can control! Can you even swim??”

Derek gives him an offended look. “Of course I can swim.”

“Let me rephrase the question—can you swim well enough to get close to a murderous _mermaid_? Derek—there are _currents_ to worry about and—“

“Distract her,” he interrupts tersely, and somehow steals the weapon away from Stiles and jumps halfway down the rocky shore before he can protest again.

“ _Derek_!” Stiles calls indignantly. “What the fuck!”

Derek, predictably, does not answer. 

“Goddammit,” he hisses and digs around in the abandoned duffle bag for a gun. They have no bronze bullets, but he sends up a quick prayer to whoever may be listening that silver will be sufficient enough to break her concentration. He realizes with a sick sense of dawning horror that there’s a steadily growing whirlpool spinning around the mermaid, water inky black and menacing in the moonlight. She screeches again, beady eyes honing in on Derek as he puts the dagger in between his teeth and dives into the sea.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Stiles hisses, fingers trembling slightly as he flicks the safety off and takes aim at the mermaid’s chest. 

He shoots once, twice, three times, but it only seems to anger the monster. The waves double in size in less than three seconds, and Stiles drops the gun onto wet sand like it’s burned him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “ _Fuck_.” He can’t see Derek anymore, doesn’t want to waste valuable time searching for him with the flashlight, and chooses to believe he _isn’t_ currently fighting a losing battle with riptides and undertows. “Think, Stiles, fucking _think_.”

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes darting around for a viable weapon. He catches sight of two bottles of coke and a few bags of chips that Derek must have gotten from the motel vending machine just in case they got stuck on another all-night stakeout, and his heart gives a painful thump.

The mermaid totally ruined what could have been a perfectly enjoyable night. Most of the time their monster recons take place in musty warehouses or bloodstained crawlspaces. A couple hours on a beach with the stars and a bag of Lays and Derek _not fucking drowning_ sounds like heaven. Stiles probably wouldn’t have even complained that much.

He lets out a desperate puff of air, and grabs the food.

“Hey, Seaweed Breath!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. He hurls a bag into the surf, and like magic the mermaid’s attention snaps to him. “That’s right! Did those people you killed pollute the ocean too?” Another bag. She lets out an eerie howl, but the waves have all but disappeared and the whirlpool is shrinking by the second. If Derek isn’t already dead, Stiles has at least bought him a few moments. “What’d they do?” he taunts. “Toss a beer bottle in? Kick a piece of plastic into the waves? What are you gonna do to _me_?” He pops the tab on a coke and lobs it as hard as he can toward her, watching in satisfaction as soda streams out in a sparkling arc before the can breaks the surface and sinks under. 

Water blasts him in the chest out of nowhere; sends him sprawling back on the sand a few feet. Another wave crashes over him before he can get his breath back and he accidentally swallows a mouthful of warm salt water. He’s still coughing and spluttering, struggling to get to his feet, when another wave hits and knocks him back down again. It’s fucking horrible is what it is, because he’s going to fucking drown on dry land. This is the _worst_.

He braces himself for another wave, but for some reason it doesn’t come. When he manages to sit up, wheezing and still hacking up water, the mermaid is gone and Derek is staggering up the rocks towards him, blood dripping from the blade.

Stiles flops down again, relief washing through him so strongly he feels incapacitated.

“You’re alive,” he rasps out when Derek drops down next to him, soaking wet and panting.

“I told you to distract her,” he snaps. “Not to make her target you.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Don’t do it again,” Derek mutters darkly. 

Stiles doesn’t bother answering because it’s only a matter of time before one of them has another near-death experience. He knows it. Derek knows it. There’s no need to pretend it won’t happen.

Tonight, though, they killed an evil mermaid. They’re both alive. They’re lying on a beach and they still have a coke left over and some Chex Mix that’s probably stale.

“Look,” he says tiredly, pointing up at the sky. “I can see the Big Dipper." 

Derek gives him an extremely judgmental look out of the corner of his eye. “That’s Sagittarius.”

He gapes at him for a long moment before rolling his eyes. “Of course you know that.” 

They share the coke.


End file.
